Slither In
by LoonyLoopyLupin96
Summary: He really shouldn't feel that way for her. And certainly not just as a replacement for Lily. Teacher/Student
1. Chapter 1

"Double potions?" Ron asked incredulous.

Hermione nodded, trying to hide her displeasure.

"Great," Harry added sarcastically.

"Now, now, Potter," A voice came from behind them.

Turning, the three of them saw Draco; a Inquisitorial Squad badge sticking out from his chest.

"Inquisitorial Squad?" Hermione asked.

Draco nodded, looking disgusted at having to communicate with a 'mudblood.'

"Potter, Weasley!" Professor Snape shouted down the corridor.

"Granger's here too, Sir" Draco called back, looking smug.

"Do remind me to inform your Father, Draco, that there is nothing wrong with your eyesight," Professor Snape sneered uncharacteristically as the four of them made their way to the potions classroom.

Ron smothered a laugh, as he stumbled past their Professor. Harry, too, was having trouble containing his emotions.

Hermione merely frowned slightly, observing their teacher.

Professor Snape's eyes swept over the four of them, resting briefly on the girl at the back.

She looked away, when their eyes met briefly, and walked into class.

'Act normal' he reminded himself, turning his nose away to glance at Draco.

Following the four of them in, Professor Snape pointed his wand behind him, and the door closed.

"Turn to page..." he paused dramatically, and the majority of the class grinned at one another, "Five hundred and thirty four," he finished.

There was a chorus of zips and a synchronised rustle as the class reached into their bags to withdraw their books.

Professor Snape sighed, waiting, and took to leaning against his desk, his eyes scanning the class. Once again, they came to rest on Hermione, sitting in the middle row, on the far right of the room.

His eyes remained upon her, for quite some time. Unbeknown to him, Draco was watching him curiously, still feeling mildly embarrassed at the way his favourite Professor had addressed him earlier.

"I shall be handing back your essays, momentarily," he began, pushing himself up from the desk and frowning briefly; an uncomfortable tightness within his trousers. Trying to appear unconcerned, he continued to take the lesson, "Take notes from the pages," he told the class.

The class, once silent, now had a low thrum of noise around; the students got out their quills and their ink, and began scrawling along the parchment.

As was usual, Hermione's hand shot straight into the air.

As was usual, Professor Snape turned his back, and gathered up the essays.

When he turned back, her hand had withdrawn. He let out an inward sigh, and was careful to avoid looking at her again, as he handed out the essays.

"Abysmal," he muttered as he dropped Neville's essay onto his desk; marked with a huge 'T'.

"Acceptable," Professor Snape said multiple times as he took the essays round to the majority of the Slytherins.

"Dreadful?" Draco exclaimed, to the Gryffindor's amusement.

"Well you see, Mr Malfoy," Professor Snape answered, handing out more of the essays, without a backward glance, "When I asked for an essay on Draught of the Living Dead, that is generally what I expect. Even Longbottom got the title right, if nothing else," he added. Neville blushed scarlet.

"Professor?" Hermione said, as Professor Snape headed back to his desk.

"What can I do for you?" he replied, swirling around.

The entire class fell silent, gawping at the rare show of kindness.

Professor Snape rolled his eyes.

"Well...?" he asked her, walking behind his desk, and sitting down.

"I haven't got my essay back," she said.

That voice.

So pristine, and slender.

"Professor?" A student said. It was only then that he realised he had been staring open mouthed at her.

"Ah yes," he said, pulling himself together, "I need to see you, after class," he continued, trying to look unconcerned, or disgusted – as he should.

"A-after the lesson?" she asked him, without the usual Gryffindor bravery.

"Yes, after the lesson," he snapped.

'Why does she sound afraid, of me?' he wondered to himself.

Feeling nervous, she realised, 'He thinks I'm afraid,' she thought to herself, allowing a small giggle to escape her lips. Harry and Ron glanced over at her questioningly, but she just shook her head, continuing to take notes, that she had taken many a time before.

"Right," Professor Snape called, having spent a good hour or so walking around the class, he remained perched behind them, against a shelf, "There's something I must do," he went on, trying to look serious, "So you can leave early," he said, trying to appear unconcerned.

The truth was, he just needed to get out of the class. He couldn't be around her. It was too much for him. She was too much like Lily. Far too much, so.

"Early?" Harry said aloud, as if the word was new to him.

"Yes, early, Potter," Professor Snape answered with a glare, observing the way Harry's arm brushed against Hermione's as he threw his books into his bag.

The class filed out, talking animatedly.

Professor Snape let out a long, annoyed, sigh as he closed the door behind the seemingly last person.

"Professor?" the familiar voice called.

Swallowing, Professor Snape turned.

"What are you doing here?" he said to her, trying to sound harsh, but his words were barely above a whisper.

"I didn't get my essay," she answered, hiding a smug look.

"Your essay? Oh. Your essay..." he said, looking mildly dishevelled, "Okay then," he went on, almost a ramble as he walked back to his desk and looked through the piles upon his desk.

"Is this it, Sir?" she asked, spotting a sheet of paper with her name on.

"Is what...?" he said, putting his hand within a pile so he could resume looking, and looked over at what she was looking at.

"No!" he called, withdrawing his hand from the pile and putting it upon hers, to stop her getting the paper.

She looked back at the paper, and then at their hands, before turning her gaze to him.

They looked at one another for a short while, before he stood upright.

"No," he repeated, professionally, "That was merely...a list that Alb- Professor Dumbledore wanted me to get together," he lied.

"You don't need to correct yourself; we know what he's called," she pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

Professor Snape frowned, "That isn't the point. It's manners. Besides, students aren't to call him by such things."

'Students.'

The word rang through both of their ears, over and over.

"It'd just be like you calling me Severus," he went on, trying to amend his mistake.

"Is that right, Severus?" she said to him.

Taking his gaze back to her, he frowned.

"Do you object?" Hermione asked him, in an almost child-like, playful voice.

"Undecided."


	2. Chapter 2

"Care to expand on that?" she challenged.

"Expand?" he answered with a smirk.

There was a knowing silence, in which she stepped around the desk.

"Allow me," she suggested.

"No..." he said helplessly.

"You want to, Professor."

"Professor?"

"Severus."

"That's more like it," Severus agreed, resisting the urge to put his arms around her instantly.

"You didn't answer me," Hermione recalled, perching herself on the edge of his desk beside him.

"You didn't ask me a question," he pointed out.

"Oh yeah," she said, reaching a hand out to his waist line.

"Don't..."

"You want to," she retorted.

"But we can't," he objected.

"Not yet," Hermione announced.

"Not ever," Severus confirmed, closing the distance between them anyway.

"Is that right?" She asked in a somewhat teasing tone, as she slipped her hands around his waist.

"Miss Granger..." he attempted, but she shook her head.

"I thought we were passed all evasiveness," she claimed, standing upright again and pulling him to her.

"Well you thought wrong, then," he answered with a sly grin.

"You should do that more often," she proclaimed, moving her arms up, around his neck as he wound his own arms around her waist.

"What's that?" he said, turning them slightly and resting himself upon his desk; a reversal of positioning.

"That," she said, removing her hand to draw around his lips.

"Smile?" he vaguely sneered, with more of his usual smirk.

"Yes," she replied with a nod.

"Oh," he merely replied, putting his lips around her finger.

Hermione giggled, and leaned against him, on the desk. Cautiously, she removed her hand from his face, and wound it around him.

"What are you...?" he trailed off his question, when she returned her hand before them both, holding onto the parchment that she had seen earlier, with her name upon it.

Some colour rose up in Severus' pale cheeks. Hermione smiled, seeing this and offered him the parchment.

He looked down blankly at it, and realised she wanted him to read from it.

"You want me to read it?" He asked her, and frowned slightly as she began to grin; it grew wider as the seconds went by.

"What are you laughing at, may I ask?" he requested, using the kindness he had shown earlier, which seemed to be available only for her.

"You've dropped yourself it in," she noted, "Before you said it was the beginning on a list. Therefore; nothing much on it. Now you have claimed to be able to read from it, and so it must be more than a mere list."

Her complex understanding would have been, to anyone else, mind boggling. But to Severus, it made perfect sense and as he groaned inwardly, closing his eyes, she took the opportunity to lean up to the taller figure, and press her lips to his.

She remained there for a few seconds. During the time, his eyes remained closed.

When she withdrew her lips from his, his eyes flickered open, almost wary.

"Why didn't you tell me about it before?" she asked in wonder, as though she hadn't just outright kissed her Potions teacher.

"I...erm..." he stumbled over his words; his mind having been momentarily void of any thought, other than the girl's lips upon his.

"You seem speechless," she pointed out with a grin.

Embarrassed, he merely, closed his mouth, took a deep, long breath and tried again.

"I didn't think it would have been...prudent...back then, to declare my lo-" he cut off, realising what he was about to say.

"This isn't right," he changed, standing up and ignoring the ever increasing throb beneath him.

"Don't be like that," she begged, almost whining.

Without an answer, he put his hand to his forehead, a frown forming.

"Headache?" she asked him; her lips beside his ear.

Severus tensed, opening an eye.

"Yes, but nothing my little bookworm can do about it," he replied.

Once again, he had spoken without a thought.

"Sit down," she demanded softly, to which he obliged willingly, seemingly betraying his own morals.

Carefully, she began massaging his shoulders. She continued to do so, waiting for him to relax and breathe.

After a few long minutes, Severus let out the breath in a long, drawn out procedure.

"Is this okay?" she asked from behind him.

"It's brilliant," he replied, his eyes closing.

"So, are you going to tell your 'little bookworm' what was on the parchment, then?" she asked him.

"What would my little bookworm do if I said no?" he teased.

"I think she may become quite bad," she answered him, making 'bad' sound like a rather 'bad' word.

"Then I'd better do as she asks. Wouldn't want her getting like that now, would we?" he answered her, reaching to the desk for the parchment once again.

As he did so, Hermione muttered something barely audible, like, 'speak for yourself,' but he did not hear.

"Go on then," she prompted, continuing to massage his shoulder blades.

"_She isn't the childhood girl I once swore to marry,_

_But she is the one hanging around with Harry,_

_I forever long to be by her side,_

_I believe we could take this in our stride,_

_Similarly I first met Miss Granger in this school,_

_And now I swear nothing could separate us,_

_Not even their rules."_

Severus finished reading and averted her gaze as she stepped around the chair and knelt beside him.

"Severus..." she said, but stopped to cough and sniff.

Frowning he looked down at her and saw she had a small tear in her eye.

Once more the colour arose in his cheeks as he slipped off the chair and knelt beside her.

"Hermione..." he began, not unlike the way she had said his own name before. Without a word, she tipped her head back and looked at him.

"It was brilliant," she said with a smile.

"Really? It was just something I ended up writing as I was thinking about you. I can understand that you might not-"

She cut off his rambling by putting her hands to his shoulders as they sat behind his desk on the floor, and kissed him.

Unlike the last, neither of them pulled away. Instead, they remained there for quite some time.

_Some time_, meaning until his shirt was on the floor, and she was positioned above him, but they didn't take it further;

He had responded to her kiss immediately; pushing her back to the floor. Eagerly, she hadn't hesitated to unfasten his shirt.

Severus hadn't thought twice about what they were doing, until her hands moved down to his trousers.

"Don't," he said, muffled against her skin.

"You want to," she taunted as she had done many a time before.

"Don't," he repeated, clearer this time.

"Why not?" she challenged, but knew the answer before it was spoken.

"It wouldn't...not here. Not now. Not today. Some day we will, if you want me in time, that is," he added; a promise in the making.

There was an unspoken further addition, regarding her age, but neither of them took that further.

"I'll always want you," she asked, not at all phased by the mediocre rejection, and the wise words that followed.

"Always?" he joked, seemingly pleased that she'd said it, and that she wasn't in a rush to take everything further. The truth was, he just didn't exactly know what to do, and he most certainly didn't want to reveal that fact to the girl of his most recent dreams, who happened to be half his age.

"Always," she responded immediately, taking her hands back up to his chest as he wound his arms around her waist, turning so he was on the floor.

_Some time_, meaning, until there was a knock at the door.

They didn't hear it at first, and so they continued, upon the floor, kissing one another as he manoeuvred his hands up her back; beneath the material of her blouse. As she ran her hands along his chest, unable to get enough of him.

Knock, knock.

It came again, louder this time, and she pulled back from his lips; both of them having heard it.

"Was that-"

"Professor?" It was Draco.

"Shit," Severus said without a second thought. Hermione seemed intensely amused at his outburst, but did not complain as she was almost thrown aside in his haste to dress himself and straighten out his clothes.

The door opened as Severus fastened his final button. Simultaneously as it did so, he picked up some of the papers on his desk, to look as though they had been talking business.

"Yes, Miss Granger," he said, falling into the facade with ease.

The clever girl that she was, in Severus' opinion, she caught on quickly enough.

"Thank you, Sir," she added with a wink out of Draco's view.

"Professor?" he said, looking between them and making his way over to the desk.

"What is it?" Severus asked him.

"My essay. Goyle switched them, I believe," he said, trying to look smart.

"Right, okay. You may go," Severus replied, "Both of you," he added with a small, sad smile in Hermione's way, "I have a class to prepare for."

Hermione nodded in gentle understanding, and made her way to the door with Draco.

"Oh, and Miss Granger?" he called out.

"Yes?" she said, flickering her eyelids slightly as she turned back to him.

"I hope the effort in your work, gaining you an Outstanding, no less, is the same effort you put into **every** aspect of your...work," he announced, struggling to hide a smirk.

"Believe me, Professor, it is," she replied before making to head out of the door.

"Glad to hear it," he added with a knowing look as she glanced back briefly with a nod.

Draco stood frozen, looking mildly confused, "Sir? She's a mud-"

"Do you want to finish that, Mr Malfoy?" Severus snarled.

"Well, I-"

"Didn't think so. Now. Away with you," Severus interjected.

As Draco retreated from the room, closing the door as he did so, he unknowingly left Severus with one of the biggest smiles he had ever produced; enough, one might suggest, to rival Hermione's.


End file.
